


Bluest Heaven

by undersail2013



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Afterlife, Heaven, M/M, Pillow Talk, after episode s09e09 Holy Terror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undersail2013/pseuds/undersail2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When I die, will I see you in Heaven?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bluest Heaven

“When I die, will I see you in Heaven?”

Castiel blinked at the question. He looked down into Dean’s face. Not for the first time since briefly becoming human, he marveled at what a strange thing human faces were. Not for the first time since regaining some semblance of his former glory, he marveled that he had always seen both soul and face, and neither. And not for the first time since he and Dean had fallen starving upon each other this afternoon, he marveled that he had resisted this beautiful visage for so long. 

He admired Dean’s perfect lips, red from rough kisses. Drank in the galaxy of freckles. The eyes, ever brilliant, floated dreamily now, in stark contrast to the sharp glint that had marked his invitation to the feast. The smudge, drying white, where Castiel had anointed him, blessed him and sanctified him, before stolidly smearing the mess, the mess Dean made of him, over his own smooth hardening skin, before fucking the smirk off Dean’s face. Dean’s soul, pulsing more slowly as he came down and tinged faintly pink in the afterglow, backlit the whole. The effect stunned Castiel, now more so than ever.

“Cas?”

“Hmm? Oh.” He willed himself to focus. “Yes. I’ll be able to visit you in Heaven.”

Dean’s shoulders sagged into the mattress and his breath escaped in a rush. He’d been holding it, it seemed. 

“It won’t be like this.”

“No?”

“No. You won’t hunger; you won’t _want_. Heaven is for peace.”

“Sounds boring,” Dean scoffed with a smile.

“Most humans make no new memories in Heaven, merely replaying the old ones.” He paused. “Let me amend that: humans most emphatically do _not_ make new memories in Heaven. And yet, as is so often the case,” a slight smile on his lips, “I find that you hunters have a knack for the impossible.” 

Dean shrugged. “Not my fault you bastards keep throwing me across every plane of existence.” 

“I assume you are referencing the time you entered the Garden. But I meant your friends at the Roadhouse.” Castiel cleared his throat, a very human gesture and an empty one. “Dean, I hope you won’t be angry. Your friends-”

“What about them?” he growled, soul flashing scarlet.

Castiel shushed him. “They’re fine. Now. But I- Dean, I enlisted their help in the war with Raphael.”

Dean sucked in his breath but said nothing.

“The man Ash, you’ll remember that he had a computer for tracking angels. Not unlike the one downstairs-”

“When we get it working-”

“It works.” 

Dean lifted his eyebrows and again held his tongue.

Castiel continued. “I recruited them to spy-”

“Them?”

“Ash, Ellen, Jo.” Castiel stopped, looked warily at Dean. “Your father.”

“That’s not possible,” he hissed.

Castiel turned his free hand palm up in a show of inevitability. He continued. “Ash spoke of a private Idaho being bluer than he wanted Heaven to be. I assumed it was some sort of metaphor.”

Dean chuckled.

“He used his computer to develop a spell allowing him to summon his friends from their heavens to his. I helped him gather the components in exchange for his assistance. Raphael would never suspect the inmates of aiding-”

“Hey Cas,” Dean yawned, “no offense, but I don’t wanna hear about your war. Sucky memories.” He turned tired eyes to the angel, scrabbled his hands into his scruffy hair, pulled him in for a long kiss. “Cas,” he mumbled.

“Yes, Dean?” 

“Tell me about the others. Jo. Ellen.” Swallowing hard, he added, “Dad.” 

“Ellen arrived first. Given her history, it was naturally easiest for her to find the roadhouse. Jo more or less followed her mother. As for your father, it cost a good deal of effort. Perhaps it was the hell taint; perhaps it owed to his weaker connection with Ellen’s bar. But he came at last, and he proved himself a worthy- Well, you definitely don’t want to know about his role in the war-”

A soft snore broke from Dean’s throat. Castiel smiled at the golden glow emanating from this most beautiful soul, this most beloved friend.

 

~~~

 

Dean awoke alone. “Sonofabitch.” He started to sit up, lost the will, rolled onto his side and wallowed there before reluctantly extricating himself from the bed. “I thought we were past this." He stood, took a few calm steps towards the bathroom. In a flash of rage, he snatched up his phone from a pile of research and hurled it at the door. A snarl as the cheap phone burst apart: “Good!” 

“Are you all right, Dean?”

He felt shaken but the rage dissipated as quickly as it had come, leaving only a slump in his shoulder and a defeated voice, muttering, “I thought you were gone.”

“You were entering wakefulness; I thought you’d want a shower.”

No lie, the water was running. A genuine smile formed on Dean’s features. “You, uh, you did that for me?”

Cas didn’t speak.

“Cas- I-” Dean drew a long breath, exhaled before speaking. “If we’re gonna do this, you can’t keep flying off. I hate to be the overly attached girlfriend over here, but-” The strange look in Cas’ eyes froze his heart and stole his breath. For a second, he looked like the Cas who was yanked out of Purgatory for all the wrong reasons. The Cas who beat the hell out of him over the angel tablet. The Cas charged with killing Dean Winchester. “What, Cas, please?” 

“Shh! I’m listening.”

Dean held his breath.

“They’ve found Sam’s bolthole. I’ll be right back.”

“NO! No, you can’t leave me again, goddammit. Don’t be that guy, dude, please.” 

“Um, okay. But your brother-”

“Take me.”

“I can’t,” he said slowly.

“Cas.”

Castiel sighed. “If I take you, I may not be able to bring you both back.” He stepped forward, placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Please trust me. Trust your friends, who are working to save your brother. We will find Sam, and I will bring him home to you if I can.”

“And if you can’t?” 

With eyes full of meaning, he said, “Then don’t look back. Keep doing your job, and we’ll meet you at the Roadhouse.”


End file.
